LITMIR.BIZ

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of approaching in a novel and perceptibly felt manner one of those excellences which, as much as anything, contributes to the permanent charm of Catullus, his dainty versification, will more than compensate for any shortcomings which the difficulty of the task has made inevitable. The same may be said of the elaborately artificial poem to Camerius (c. lv.), and the almost unapproachable Attis (c. lxiii.). Here, at least half the interest lies in the varied turns of the metre; if these can be represented with anything like faithfulness, the gain in exactness of prosody is enough, in my judgment, to counterbalance the possible loss of freedom in expression.

      There is another circumstance which tends to make modern rules of prosody necessarily negative. Quantity, in English revivals of ancient metre, depends not only on position, but on accent. But accent varies greatly in different words; heavy level ever cometh any, have the same accent as empty evil either boometh penny; but the first syllable in the former set of words is lighter than in the latter. Hence, though accented, they may, on occasion, be considered and used as short; as, on the same principle, dolorous stratagem echoeth family, usually dactyls, may, on occasion, become tribrachs. But how lay down any positive rule in matter necessarily so fluctuating? We cannot. All we can do is to refuse admission as short syllables to any heavier accented syllable. Here, then, much must be left to individual discretion. My translation of the Attis will best show my own feeling in the matter. But I am fully aware that in this respect I have fallen far short of consistency. I have made any sometimes short, more often long; to, usually short, is lengthened in lxi. 26, lxvii. 19, lxviii. 143; with is similarly long, though not followed by a consonant, in lxi. 36; given is long in xxviii. 7, short in xi. 17, lxiv. 213; are is short in lxvii. 14; and more generally many syllables allowed to pass for short in the Attis are elsewhere long. Nor have I scrupled to forsake the ancient quantity in proper names; following Heyse, I have made the first syllable of Verona short in xxxv. 3, lxvii. 34, although it retains its proper quantity in lxviii. 27. Again, Pheneos is a dactyl in lxviii. 111, while Satrachus is an anapaest in xcv. 5. In many of these instances I have acted consciously; if the writers of Greece and Rome allowed many syllables to be doubtful, and almost as a principle avoid perfect uniformity in the quantity of proper names, a greater freedom may not unfairly be claimed by their modern imitators. If Catullus could write Pharsăliam coeunt, Pharsălia regna frequentant, similar license may surely be extended to me. I believe, indeed, that nothing in my translation is as violent as the double quantity just mentioned in Catullus; but if there is, I would remind my readers of Goethe's answer to the boy who told him he had been guilty of a hexameter with seven feet, and applying the remark to any seeming irregularities in my own translation would say, Lass die Bestie stehen.

      It would not be difficult to swell this Preface by enlarging on the novelty of the attempt, and indirectly panegyrising my own undertaking. I doubt whether any real advantage would thus be gained. If I have merely produced an elaborate failure, however much I might expatiate on the principles which guided me, my work would be an elaborate failure still. I shall therefore say no more, and shall be contented if I please the, even in this classically trained country, too limited number of readers who can really hear with their ears—if, to use the borrowed language of a great poet, I succeed in making myself vocal to the intelligent alone.

CATULLUS.

       Table of Contents

      I.

      Who shall take thee, the new, the dainty volume,

       Purfled glossily, fresh with ashy pumice?

      You, Cornelius; you of old did hold them

       Something worthy, the petty witty nothings,

      5 While you venture, alone of all Italians,

       Time's vast chronicle in three books to circle,

       Jove! how arduous, how divinely learned!

      Therefore welcome it, yours the little outcast,

       This slight volume. O yet, supreme awarder,

       10 Virgin, save it in ages on for ever.

      II.

      Sparrow, favourite of my own beloved,

       Whom to play with, or in her arms to fondle,

       She delighteth, anon with hardy-pointed

       Finger angrily doth provoke to bite her:

       5 When my lady, a lovely star to long for,

       Bends her splendour awhile to tricksy frolic;

       Peradventure a careful heart beguiling,

       Pardie, heavier ache perhaps to lighten;

      Might I, like her, in happy play caressing

       10 Thee, my dolorous heart awhile deliver!

       … . … . I would joy, as of old the maid rejoiced Racing fleetly, the golden apple eyeing, Late-won loosener of the wary girdle.

      III.

      Weep each heavenly Venus, all the Cupids,

       Weep all men that have any grace about ye.

       Dead the sparrow, in whom my love delighted,

       The dear sparrow, in whom my love delighted.

      5 Yea, most precious, above her eyes, she held him,

       Sweet, all honey: a bird that ever hail'd her

       Lady mistress, as hails the maid a mother.

      Nor would move from her arms away: but only

       Hopping round her, about her, hence or hither,

       10 Piped his colloquy, piped to none beside her.

      Now he wendeth along the mirky pathway,

       Whence, they tell us, is hopeless all returning.

      Evil on ye, the shades of evil Orcus,

       Shades all beauteous happy things devouring,

       15 Such a beauteous happy bird ye took him.

       Ah! for pity; but ah! for him the sparrow,

       Our poor sparrow, on whom to think my lady's

       Eyes do angrily redden all a-weeping.

      IV.

      1.

      The puny pinnace yonder you, my friends, discern,

       Of every ship professes agilest to be.

       Nor yet a timber o'er the waves alertly flew

       She might not aim to pass it; oary-wing'd alike

       5 To fleet beyond them, or to scud beneath a sail.

      Nor here presumes denial any stormy coast

       Of Adriatic or the Cyclad orbed isles,

       A Rhodos immemorial, or that icy Thrace,

       Propontis, or the gusty Pontic ocean-arm,

      10 Whereon, a pinnace after, in the days of yore

       A leafy shaw she budded; oft Cytorus' height

       With her did inly whisper airy colloquy.

      2.

      Amastris, you by Pontus, you, the box-clad hill

       Of high Cytorus, all, the pinnace owns, to both

       15 Was ever, is familiar; in the primal years

       She stood upon your hoary top, a baby tree,

       Within your haven early dipt a virgin oar:

      To carry thence a master o'er the surly seas,

       A world of angry water, hail'd

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